


Fun Alternatives to the End of Days

by Sarah1281



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Fluff and Humor, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 05:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16402490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/pseuds/Sarah1281
Summary: Hermann would prefer not to plan out a future that may never happen while every time he turns around it seems Newt has two more ideas for what he wants to do after the war. The one thing they can agree on is they want to face their future together. Also, since they're in a committed relationship and all, Newt has something to tell Hermann he really should have mentioned earlier.





	Fun Alternatives to the End of Days

“You know what I want to do when this whole war is over?” Newt asked dreamily. He bumped his legs lightly against Hermann’s across the table. 

“Judging by past discussions, I’m pretty sure the answer is ‘everything’,” Hermann said dryly. He took a sip of his cider. 

Newt laughed. “Guilty. But I’m a scientist, Hermann. Why shouldn’t I want to gain as many new experiences as I can?” 

“Kindly explain to me how becoming an ice cream taster is science,” Hermann said. 

“First of all, life is science,” Newt said. “Or at least we think it is at the time. I miss phrenology. It was a bit racist but I had so much fun getting to insult people who suck based on their skull shape and they couldn’t argue. I mean, they tried but I was really good at it. I had a doctorate in it and everything and now it’s not worth the paper it’s printed on. Secondly, this is absolutely science! Yeah, you’re seeing if ice cream tastes good but that is so limited. It’s really not hard to make something with that much sugar taste good. Plain old vanilla is good and we’re just taking that and adding more. So you have to figure out categories and ways to be as objective as possible. And I’m no expert but I can think of a few categories off the top of my head. You know, texture, consistency, taste…I’m sure there’s training.” 

“Professional skydiver.”

“First of all, that’s so goddamn badass that it justifies itself,” Newt said. “Secondly, think of all the calculations involved in planning the dive and figuring out the absolute longest I can wait to pull the parachute and not get hurt. And I can definitely think of some amazing experiments I can perform from that altitude.”

Hermann’s eyes narrowed. “Newton. Don’t you dare.” 

Newt smiled brightly. “I’m absolutely going to do that.”

“Garbage collector.” 

“Hermann, I believe the correct term is ‘sanitation worker’,” Newt said. He took a sip of his cider. “And I don’t know, I saw that episode of Arthur where Francine’s dad was a sanitation worker who built like a whole playground out of garbage at a formative age and I’m sure I could find some amazing stuff. Plus, you don’t really have to deal with stupid people and can listen to loud music all the time and don’t have to dress up. And the benefits are great.” 

He looked expectantly at Hermann. 

“I’d keep going but I’m sure you’ll have some kind of insane troll logic for everything I say.” 

“You know me too well,” Newt said happily, reaching out and squeezing Hermann’s hand. 

Hermann smiled back at him. “And I love you anyway.” 

“That is the dream, baby.” 

“Although, really, starting an internet campaign to be in Trolls 6?” Hermann asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“What?” Newt asked defensively. “The McElroys did it and their cameo in Trolls 2 made my life. And I haven’t gotten to be in a movie since Charlie goddamn Chaplin. It’s time. It’s way past time.” 

“I’m just saying, your campaign used to be for Trolls 4,” Hermann said. 

Newt made a face. “God, Hermann, let me live! I’ve been a bit busy trying to fight the kaiju and save the world.” 

“Sorry, did you say ‘fight the kaiju’? Because you don’t actually-”

“Let me live, Hermann!” 

Hermann hid his smile behind his drink. “You were going to tell me what the five hundredth thing you wanted to do when this is all over is.” 

“Only five hundredth?” Newt asked, cocking his head. “That doesn’t seem right. I must have shared way more than that. I have a list. I can show you.” 

“Would now be a good time to tell you that I tune out about thirty percent of what you say?” Hermann asked innocently. 

Newt laughed. “You dick.” 

“Was that a no? This was part of my thirty percent,” Hermann said. 

“Oh, whatever. I don’t even care. We should open up a restaurant.” 

Hermann looked quizzically at him. “We?” 

Newt smiled shyly at him. “Yeah, we. I haven’t really seen a restaurant opening up close and personal since, God, 1956 maybe? But I remember enough and we can always look up what we don’t know or just wing it. That’s the most fun way to do it anyway. But not during a war. That’s the worst time to start a new business. Well, any business that’s not warmongering or otherwise exploitative and I am not about that life.” 

“None of your other plans involved me, Newton,” Hermann said carefully. 

“Herms, all of my plans involve you,” Newt said seriously, reaching over to rub his thumb against the back of Hermann’s hand. 

Hermann’s ears reddened and he ducked his head, pleased. “But, still, this is the first time you made me such an explicit part of your future.”

Newt’s smile was nervous but hopeful. “Well this is the first time we’ve talked about it since I thought we were in a strong enough place that it was a given that we’d be doing something together.” 

“Newton, ever since I wrote back to you the first it was a given that we would be doing something together.” 

“Even when we hated each other?”

“Really, Newton, it was nothing close to hate,” Hermann said. “Maybe frustration and confusion and a certain homicidal ideation but I know hate and that wasn’t it.” 

“I don’t know whether to insist that I am totally hate-worthy or to be totally touched that you’re looking back so sentimentally.” 

“It’s up to you but, for the sake of your love life, do choose wisely,” Hermann advised. 

Newt just laughed. 

“I do know what you mean, though,” Hermann said softly. “Before we might have plans to go together and exist in the same city but the idea of doing something together is just so much more…intimate.” 

Newt waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “Hell yeah it is.” 

“I’m not so sure about this restaurant idea, though,” Hermann said. 

Newt sighed theatrically. “Oh, why not?” 

“It’s not-”

“Of course it’s science! Everything is science! We’ve talked about this!” 

Hermann rolled his eyes. “For you, perhaps, and while I do not necessarily disagree with that on a philosophical level, I want to engage in something a lot more obviously science than that.” 

“Experiment with cooking!” Newt shouted excitedly. 

Hermann opened his mouth then abruptly closed it again. 

“Do I even want to know?” Newt asked. 

“I just have so many responses to that that I don’t even know where to start,” Hermann replied. 

“I’ll wait.” 

Hermann began to count off on his fingers. “You don’t need to open a restaurant to experiment with cooking. You really shouldn’t serve patrons experimental food. Owning a restaurant doesn’t make you a chef. Only some forms of cooking do well with experiments.” 

“I hear your negativity but can I counter with ‘I want to anyway’,” Newt said. “It’s not like I don’t have the money and if I don’t make so much on patents and research and the rights to my story and probably a couple of book deals after all this then I’ll be damned. And no, that is not war profiteering. I will stab you in the face.” 

Hermann held up his hands innocently. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“But you were thinking it! I can tell!” 

Hermann didn’t bother to deny it. 

“I would want to do a really cool restaurant,” Newt said, his eyes wide and shining. “Like the most important thing is the décor. Food matters, too, but food is good at a lot of places. I want a place people want to spend time in. Something like the Rainforest Café!” 

“You had me until that last part,” Hermann said. “But the Rainforest Café is tacky and the food is overpriced given the mediocre quality.” 

“Wh-how…tacky?” Newt spluttered. “Sure if by tacky you mean totally bitching!” 

Hermann gave him an unimpressed look. “If I did mean it was ‘bitching’, which I never ever do, I would have said that and not ‘tacky.’” 

Newt grinned. “Sure but I made you say ‘bitching.’” 

Hermann gave a small smile back. 

“You’re crazy, you know,” Newt said. “The food was alright but you came there for the ambiance! The gift shop was so bright and colorful and loud and I always wanted to buy like everything. There was a fish tank and the ceiling was painted like the sky and sometimes there was a thunderstorm and you heard the thunder and saw the lightning! And there were giant fake dolphins and a tiger and a butterfly. Oh, and a gorilla and a crocodile and I think a snake! And it’s all green and there’s a waterfall and fake trees and, oh my God, Hermann, I want to go to the Rainforest Café.” 

“There isn’t one in Hong Kong,” Hermann said. 

Newt sighed. “I know. There was once but only for like five years. One more for the post-war, I guess.” 

“It really doesn’t surprise me you want some kind of gimmick for your restaurant. And, too soon as it will undoubtedly be, I fully expect you to have a kaiju theme restaurant and barely feature any jaegers if you have them at all even though that might be what people would actually want. Non-cultist people even.” 

“Hey, cultists have a surprising amount of money,” Newt said. “I have so many theories about that. I do a podcast about it actually. But yeah, I hadn’t really thought about it but now that you said it that’s what I want more than anything else in the world. Thanks for the idea, Herms!” 

“I refuse to believe you hadn’t thought of that before,” Hermann said, narrowing his eyes. “And even if you hadn’t, it still isn’t my fault because you would have had the idea eventually.” 

Newt shrugged. “Probably. But I didn’t. You’re the one who gave it to me.” 

“What kind of food do you even want to serve?” Hermann asked. “Why am I even entertaining this notion?” 

“Because you love me and because you’re curious despite yourself,” Newt said cheerfully. “And, see, that’s the best part. Maybe not the best recipe for success in business or whatever but I really don’t care about that. I mean, I care a little because I hate to fail but also not really because that’s not the point.” 

“Maybe I’m a little curious,” Hermann conceded. “What are you planning?” 

Newt lit up and he spread his hands out. “I want to do requests. No one can come in, like, spur of the moment. Everyone has to book their meal uh…two days in advance? Would that be enough time? I don’t know, the time doesn’t matter. And they can order whatever. Because they put exactly what they want and all the details they want in their request. And we’ll serve literally anything that’s legal. Because, like, you know otherwise we’d get some cannibalistic fucks or some people who want to eat snow leopard or something.” He bit his lip. “So…what do you think?” 

Hermann tapped his fingers on the table as he thought it over. “It might be difficult finding chefs with such a range but I suppose you could always build up a pool of specialists who come in for certain meals. And while there’s no guarantee how many people would want to be there every day, since you’d know days in advance how many people would be there and how much they would order you could only have exactly as much staff on hand as you would need. So…it’s terribly impractical, of course, but I could see how the logistics might work. Another problem might be rare ingredients and getting them in so quickly but you could explain that really difficult dishes like that might take longer.” 

Newt beamed at him. “And that’s what I call the Hermann Gottlieb seal of approval.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Hermann cautioned. “I just don’t think it’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.” 

“And since this is me and this is you, that’s basically the same thing I said,” Newt said. “But what about you? What do you think of when you think of after the war?” 

“I don’t,” Hermann said bluntly. “I can’t afford to think further than the next attack. None of us can, really.” 

Newt rolled his eyes. “Hermann, I’m thinking about the future enough for like everyone here.” 

“You are,” Hermann agreed. “So surely I won’t have to.”

“That’s no way to live,” Newt argued. 

“Neither is the end of days and our resources and our budget and the size of our task,” Hermann countered. “And yet here we are.” 

“No, but I’m serious,” Newt said earnestly, leaning forward and placing both of his hands on Hermann’s. “You need something more than just work and the fear of the apocalypse, Hermann.” 

Hermann looked meaningfully at him. “Well it’s a good thing that I have that then.” 

Newt’s eyes softened and he and Hermann just looked at each other for a long moment. 

Eventually, Newt shook himself. “But seriously. That is such crap, Hermann. You need to have something you want for yourself after this is over. And I mean something other than me because, well, that’s a given.” 

“Is it?” Hermann asked challengingly. 

“Yep. No take-backs.” 

Hermann smiled. “That’s nice to know.” 

Newt grinned. “I don’t usually get that reaction but I’ll take it.” 

Hermann’s smile slowly faded. “I mean it, Newton. More than likely we’re all going to die. Why make future plans that will never come to be? It will hurt all the more when they prove impossible.” 

“If we all die we’ll have bigger problems then how we never got to open that octopus farm,” Newt said. 

“Wait, wha-”

“Don’t change the subject, Hermann,” Newt interrupted. “We won’t die.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“I can’t live like I’m going to die. I can’t. It’s not sustainable and if that’s how you’re trying to live no wonder you’re so stressed all the time!” 

“Well how else am I supposed to live?” Hermann demanded. “No matter how good we are it’s never good enough, Newton. You know that. No matter how many kaiju we beat back there always seems to be more.” 

“We don’t know that,” Newt said. “They might be down to their last one! Just because we don’t see their cracks don’t mean they aren’t there. And it doesn’t even matter if we all die in a year.” 

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t?” 

“No because you still need something to live for today! And it’s just too much to think there’s nothing to look forward to. What motivation is there even?” 

“Just because we’re going to die doesn’t mean I want it to be tomorrow,” Hermann said grimly. “Every equation I complete pushes our extinction date back another hour, another day. How can I not give it my all to push back the end even that little bit?” 

Newt frowned at him. “Dude, you are seriously depressing me. Stop it.” 

“I don’t-”

“Stop it.” 

“What would you have me do then?” 

“Give me some goddamn future plans! I’ve given you like three today. Anything. I don’t even care. You need something more to work for than just trying to make sure someone gets a chance to finish cooking a roast before they die.” 

Hermann was quiet for a long time. “Why are you so certain we won’t die?” 

“I…Well technically I’m not. It’s just it doesn’t feel like we will,” Newt explained. “You know? Just like I can’t quite believe the world will end all these attacks be damned. So much has happened and it always feels like the world is ending, usually a little less literally, but it never does. So I don’t believe it this time. Maybe when the walls crumble around me I will but for now the very idea of us dying just seems like a far-off impossibility. It’s not real.” 

Hermann nodded slowly. “That’s not very logical but I wish I could think that way as well.” 

“I’ll think that way for the both of us,” Newt promised. 

Hermann fell silent again. Eventually, he said, “I-I rather think it might be nice to return to academia. We could teach together. You could have your pick of the subjects you are qualified to teach to keep things interesting for you. I could do my research and help pass on my knowledge to the next generation. I always did enjoy teaching before I came to the PPDC, I just couldn’t look at those children and the future we all knew they didn’t have and not try to change that.” 

Newt smiled softly at him. “Professors together, huh? I like that. We could go back to MIT. I always loved Boston and I know you will, too. Plus I know you’re not sentimental about either Germany or England.” 

“I rather thought it would be MIT,” Hermann admitted. “The first time I thought about where I might go when this was over I thought of Boston and I have to admit that is your influence.” 

Newt smiled beatifically at him. “I love Boston. I’ve always loved Boston.” 

“Well you did live there for a long time,” Hermann said. “So it’s not surprising. You started attending it in 2006 and you continued as a student and professor up until 2016.”

“Well, yeah, but I already loved Boston or else I wouldn’t have gone there in the first place,” Newt said. “Man, Boston used to be the place to be! You know I’ve always been all about the activism and fighting abuses in power, right?” 

“Newton, I’m pretty sure this is literally the first thing I learned about you even before your name or your interest in science,” Hermann said dryly. 

Newt laughed. “As it should be! But seriously, way back in the day Boston was where it all happened! Like every single act of rebellion against the king started in Boston. Or near enough, at least. We were the pioneers of the rebellion! And yeah, I felt a little bad afterwards about all the rocks in the snowballs we were throwing at those British soldiers but at the time I was all caught up in it and they really didn’t have to start shooting, you know? Still ‘massacre’ was putting it a bit strongly. But Paul was never one to let a little thing like an inconvenient truth get in the way of what the image he wanted to portray. Damn, he’d have made a great PR person today.” 

“He sounds like a good friend.” 

“Oh, he was,” Newt said wistfully. “Man, I’m so glad Boston managed to redeem itself because – well, this wasn’t Boston I know but it was pretty close – I gave up the colony entirely for like twenty years after that whole witch nonsense. I did what I could to be as disruptive as possible and ask all the questions and delay things and they didn’t even kill that many people. Like twenty out of two hundred, I think? And a couple died in prison. That was pretty not great. Ugh, I don’t even want to talk about those assholes. They wouldn’t know the scientific method if it bit them on the ass. And, let me tell you, we definitely had experimental evidence as the arbiter of truth, the importance of replicability, scholarly journals, peer reviews, AND hypotheses by then so they really had no excuse.” 

Hermann didn’t say anything. 

Newt hummed contentedly and took a long sip of his drink. Eventually he snapped his fingers. “Oh, shit, Hermann, I’ve got something to tell you.” 

“Oh?” 

“So…I don’t really know how to do this…I mean, I’ve done it before but it’s always just so awkward and I’m still just so bad at this,” Newt said, fidgeting. “So I’m going to come out and be like ridiculously blunt about it, okay? Better that than dancing around the subject. I did that once and this guy thought I was dying which is actually really funny.” 

“Yes?” Hermann asked, concerned. 

Newt took a deep breath and smiled tightly. “Hermann, I’m immortal. Or…at least I think I am? I’m not reckless enough to try and kill myself just to see if it would stick or not. But I haven’t aged in centuries and I’m super durable and all and I may not heal much faster than most people but I heal from things that would be fatal for them.” 

Hermann started choking. 

Newt’s eyes widened in alarm. “Holy shit, Hermann, how are you even choking? You don’t even have any food and you didn’t take a drink or anything? I mean, uh, are you okay?” 

Hermann waved him off as he struggled to breathe. “I-I’m fine. I just…you can’t be serious.” 

Newton’s eyes turned sad. “I’m afraid I am, Hermann. I really don’t know what caused it because I was messing with a lot of things back then so replicability isn’t going to happen but I’ve been around since-”

“Not that,” Hermann interrupted. “Newton, I know you’re immortal. I’ve known you were immortal since…well I don’t know how long it took me to believe this. But I’ve known there was some story about you and immortality since the third letter you wrote me and I can’t believe you thought this was some secret and are trying to come out to me as an immortal now!” 

Newt’s jaw dropped. “I…what? You knew?” 

“Since you mentioned how you had never once managed to be arrested despite all the protests you’ve actively taken part in and how the suffragettes used to assign you to bail them all out a century ago,” Hermann said. 

Newt frowned. “Did I say that? Really?” 

“Was it true?” Hermann asked. 

“Of course it was true! It’s just…the kind of thing that makes it seem like I’m claiming I was around back then. Which either makes me a liar or crazy. Or, well, honest but that’s not anyone’s first thought.” 

“Newton, you’ve brought up being incredibly old several different times this very conversation,” Hermann said. 

Newt looked confused. “No I don’t. I’d have remembered that. Why would I do that?” 

“I’ve asked myself that many times. I think you’re just sharing stories from your life and don’t think about whether it’s from something someone of your supposed age would have been able to experience,” Hermann said. 

“That is so weird,” Newt said. “No one else knows, do they?” 

“We all know, Newton. All of us.” 

“But I’ve been so careful!” 

“Your Facebook page lists your birthday as January 19, 1281.” 

An ‘oh shit’ expression crossed Newt’s face. “I sort of remember doing that? It just…asked when I was born and I just automatically told them?” 

“It’s fine. We don’t burn witches anymore and we’ve got rather bigger things to worry about than your immortality and if anyone tries anything once this is over they’ll have a lot of people whose lives you saved to answer to,” Hermann said fiercely. 

Newt grinned at him. “Oh, hey, thanks man. I’m not too worried, though. I mean, I’m rather good at breaking out of places. I just didn’t realize I was so obvious and that’s kind of unnerving to think of? Plus I don’t want to like answer any questions and stuff. That shit gets old. I, uh, wasn’t actually at any major historical stuff. Well, not anything that wasn’t known about ahead of time. Like I moved places where cool stuff was happening. So I guess I got most of Boston’s greatest hits? You have no idea how fucking pissed I was to have missed Woodstock but I didn’t even hear about it until afterwards. It’s kind of like on Buffy, you know? What Spike said about how if every vampire who claimed they were at the crucifixion was actually there then it’d be like Woodstock. At least I think that was the reference? Something like that.”

“I’m so sorry your centuries-long existence hasn’t been more exciting,” Hermann said sarcastically. 

“I make do,” Newt said flippantly. “So you seem remarkably unbothered by this.”

“I had accepted you were telling the truth by the time we met,” Hermann said. “So I’ve known about you for almost a decade now. And I had thought you knew that I knew. So why would I be bothered after all this time? If it did unsettle me and I couldn’t just get over it I would have left a long time ago.” 

Newt couldn’t help but still at the mention of Hermann leaving even if that was only in a hypothetical that wasn’t going to happen. 

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?” Newt demanded. “You know I’m like seven hundred and you never bring it up?” 

“Well, you brought it up all the time,” Hermann pointed out. “And sometimes we talked about things from your past. There was no point in bringing it up myself and I didn’t know we had to have the ‘I know you’re immortal’ conversation with someone who once spent three hours going into detail about the similarities and differences I had with Alan Turing.” 

“First of all, you’re welcome,” Newt said. “Secondly, oh, yeah, he died like way before you were born, didn’t he?” 

“Only by thirty-five years, Newton.” 

“Huh. Well, I just…huh. So everyone else believe that, too?” 

“I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing about you and might actually make you seem less strange,” Hermann said. “Plus you bring things like that up a lot. And you’re not trying to claim you’re like the reincarnation of Winston Churchill-”

“That fascist,” Newt hissed. 

“Or Henry VIII.” 

“Another fascist! Who had no respect for the agency of women and had his wife murdered by the state.” 

“I do have to wonder, Newton, and I do hope you don’t take this the wrong way-”

“When you have to start a sentence like that, Hermann, it’s a fair bet that I will,” Newt said. 

“But you hold extremely…unusual opinions given the time period you are from and what you have lived through. I might be tempted to call you ahead of your time except your time was a long time ago and we don’t know what the future holds. Many older people have trouble adjusting to the changes of societal mores and yet you…do not. Very much do not.” 

“Oh, people who still hold dated views today have no excuse,” Newt said bluntly. “It just means they’ve lived through all the change and progress and learned nothing. I have less sympathy for them than for idiots who were born afterwards and somehow didn’t get the memo and romanticize the past. And I’ve always known – well at least as long as I’ve known I was immortal – that society would change and that anything I believed could and would be turned on its head at any time so I couldn’t be too fixated on any one thing. Man, I really miss phrenology. It was awesome. It was garbage. I hardly held my same viewpoints back in the 1300s, Hermann, and in the 2300s I will look back on my current beliefs and despair at my biases. But that’s life. I’m just trying to keep up and I figure a pretty good rule of thumb is if it’s not hurting anybody let people say or do what they want and don’t worry so much about if you understand it or not. It really isn’t my business and I’ve probably seen stranger.” 

“I can’t tell if that’s poetic or not,” Hermann said. 

“It’s not,” Newt said immediately. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know all about you and poetry, you cynic, and it’s what I honestly believe.” 

Hermann laughed at that. “Very well. I do have to say, you being actually well over seven hundred makes your – still ridiculous and illogical – ironclad faith that we will survive this make more sense. You’ve survived everything else, after all. And who knows? Maybe you’ll survive this, too. But that doesn’t mean the rest of us will.” 

“Oh, Hermann, my man, I will make a believer out of you yet,” Newt vowed, a glint in his eyes. 

“I welcome your efforts even if I don’t put much stock in them,” Hermann told him. “But to get back to what we were talking about, that’s why people often think past lives are so sketchy. Not everyone can be the reincarnation of famous and important people. If reincarnation were real some people were just forever peasants and shopkeepers. But you’re not claiming that. And nothing you say that can be fact-checked has been found to be false and, believe me, Chuck has really looked. And you normalize it so much by just being you, just doing your thing, and casually mentioning things. But, by virtue of you supposedly not having been there for the really important things, not like you’re trying to show off. I don’t know. It’s just very convincing.” 

“Well what do I even do now?” Newt asked. 

“Do?” Hermann asked, tilting his head. “What do you mean do? You don’t have to do anything. Nothing has changed, only your perception of it.” 

“Well, yeah, but I sort of have to do something different now, right? Now that I know that everyone knows? It’d be weird if I didn’t.”

“No, what’d be weird is if you let everyone know that you suddenly realized that in fact you are the world’s worst secret keeper and you had no idea you’ve been fairly open about your immortality with everyone you’ve had to spend longer than a day with,” Hermann corrected. “Trust me, you are not going to want the kind of grief you would get for this.” 

“You…may have a point,” Newt admitted. 

“I suppose that’s another reason I never really wanted to think about the future,” Hermann admitted after a long moment. “Not that I find the thought of us all being murdered by giant monsters that come from the sea to be comforting or anything-”

“Well I didn’t think you did but now that you say that I kind of have to wonder because otherwise why would you bring that up? Did you think that I thought you did or something?” Newt asked. 

Hermann ignored him. “But I do have to admit that if we did it would solve my other concern about the future. But in a rather terrible way. So again, I do not want this.” 

“The more you talk about this the less convincing you become,” Newt said. 

“How much of a future do we even have anyway?” Hermann asked. 

“I thought you were going to talk about something other than the fact you think we’re all going to get eaten by kaiju?” 

“Stomped by kaiju,” Hermann corrected. “And I don’t mean that. I mean, best case scenario. We all live. You and I can make our relationship work long-term. Eventually I will grow old and die. You will go on.” 

Newt stared at him. “Seriously? Seriously?” 

“What?” Hermann asked defensively. “Is it really so wrong to think logically about the long-term implications of our relationship? I’m a little offended that you don’t seem to care.” 

“At this point? It’s a little ridiculous. You’re in your early thirties, dude.” 

“And you’re in your early seven hundred and forties!” He downed the last of his cider. 

“It’ll be fine,” Newt said easily. 

“I don’t see how.” 

“Because it has to be. Because it’s not a problem for today. And because,” at this a sly smile came across Newt’s face, “you seem to have given this a lot of thought for someone who is convinced we’re all going to be stomped to death by kaiju.” 

Well. Newt had him there. 

That didn’t seem to be any rational reply other than throwing his empty Styrofoam cup at his entirely far too smug boyfriend. 

So he did.


End file.
